


Five Years

by Cchambers



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, Not Happy, One Shot, Post-Break Up, Post-Divorce, coliver - Freeform, laurela is mentioned how lit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10166009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cchambers/pseuds/Cchambers
Summary: "And I loved the way you looked at meAnd I miss the way you made me feel""Five years.""Five years."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this.

**It had been five years.**

Five, long years.

Connor was watching him, but it was like looking, staring into a warped mirror, the image distorted, the glass dusty after never being clean for so long.

Oliver sat across from him, for the first time in five years.

His body was tight, tense as he leaned back into the booth, his nervous stare never leaving Connor's- he remembered the way they looked at each other, the glimmer in their eyes when the other caught him staring, but now it was lost in memories, never coming back.

Oliver's voice was steady, "Hi."

Connor reached for his drink, "Hi."

Oliver was wearing glasses, his eyes hidden behind the frames; Connor's stomach turned when he saw a hint of a tear welled in the corner.

Neither of them knew what to say: Connor had so many thoughts, jumbled inside his brain and drilling a hole, a migraine starting to ping in his temples. So many words, but his voice was gone.

_You left me._

_We left each other._

_We were in love._

_Once, five years ago._

"You've done well for yourself," Oliver said quickly, the words spit out of his mouth, "I saw that case your firm did on the news. You were wonderful, Connor."

He was proud of him, that was all Connor ever wanted, all he ever tried to do: make him happy, make him proud.

_No, you failed._

"Do you still live here?" Connor asked, "In New York?" The city was big, but Connor still looked, searched for the back of Oliver's head, listened for the sound of his voice.

"No," Oliver sighed, fidgeting with his glass. He didn't want to be here. "I moved back to Philly, got an offer from a great start up company."

Connor remembered the nights spent at the table, a smile plastered on his face as he watched Oliver gush about the latest computer nerd stuff he buried himself in.

_You didn't listen, when he said no, when he tried to stop you, you didn't listen to him._

Connor was alone, in his apartment, in New York. Oliver was in another state, out of sight, but never out of mind.

"I'm glad you made something of yourself, Connor." Oliver said, "I'm glad you moved on."

Middleton, seared into his memories. The Keating five. Wes. Annalise. Sam.

He was still friends with Michaela, bound by the sick horrors of law school. She was at a firm a couple blocks down from his, clawing her way to the top of the food chain. Most of the time, Laurel was with her.

Connor was happy, that she found someone to keep. Someone to love.

But he was still hurting.

It had been five years.

Oliver, who wasn't his Oliver, who was different, changed. His Oliver, with his smile and his laugh and his love.

His Oliver, who he left.

The world broke.

Connor couldn't handle it, couldn't handle anything. The stress of thrown into the real world, still carrying the murders, the permanent guilt.

He crashed.

He worried.

It was all he did, it consumed him, like a virus, sick and deadly.

His first thought was Annalise. How she said they were alike, how they worried, how she stripped him of his soul, how she knew everything. Worriers, murders.

Worrying.

Connor didn't want to drag Oliver down with him.

"What?"

He'd never forget the crack in Oliver's voice, the way his face fell, the way he broke. "I love you," he'd said, he'd begged, "Connor, I love you."

And he loved Oliver, too. He loved him so much.

You do terrible things to protect the ones you love.

"What did I do? Please, Connor, tell me. I'll try to fix it. I'll try to fix everything."

"Oliver," he'd said.

"There's nothing that can be fixed."

The only person who could fix Connor was himself.

He lied. Told Oliver he felt something.

That maybe the love wasn't there anymore.

They signed the divorce papers three months later.

He let them drift apart, lose themselves.

Connor's ring was still in his drawer.

Five years.

They would've been married for five years.

"Did you miss me?" It hurt to ask, and Connor kicked himself, bit his tongue.

Oliver nodded, wiped away a tear that escaped and ran down his cheek. "I did. I really did."

Connor still ached, still ached for him, the pain lingering, coming in waves.

"Five years," Connor said.

"Five years."

Connor saw the flicker of the gold, shining in as it caught the light from the lamp hanging overhead.

A ring.

Oliver turned, whirled around in his seat.

Across the bar, a man sat, staring directly at them. He sipped a cocktail, trying to advert his eyes when he saw he was caught.

He was looking at Oliver the way Connor used to.

"What's his name?"

Oliver shrunk; he didn't want Connor to know. "Henry."

Henry.

Henry was wearing the same ring.

Everything hurt. Tears burned in Connor's eyes, and he felt his heart, shattering into pieces, shot by an imaginary bullet.

"Two years," Oliver fought the urge to smile, a blush forming. He was in love, and Connor wanted that so badly.

He used to have it.

Then he let it walk away.

"I would've stayed," Oliver's voice was shaky, and he reached across to take Connor's hand. "You know that."

But you didn't let him, you let him walk away, you didn't even fight, you just-

"I know."

"I loved you."

"I know."

Oliver rose from the booth first, stepping back and holding out his hand. "It was good to see you, Connor." Did he want to say more? Did he want to scream, cry?

Connor pulled him into a hug, wanting to feel his heartbeat, smell his cologne, feeling the weight of him in his arms once last time.

"Five years," Connor said.

"Five years."

 


End file.
